"Yea... too nice." Pavel let out a sarcastic sigh. If she'd seen more, like the time he'd taken the baseball bat to... well, she'd probably take it back. "Look, the man you saw... he wasn't a good guy." He said, going back to pacing as staying in one spot he felt he'd collapse. "I honestly don't remember much. We were trying to get out... he came and the next thing I know he was dead and we left."
The reality of that night was his father had confronted them and proceeded to give him the beating he was running from. Pavel had three broken ribs, and was incredibly bruised and bloody from trying to defend himself. It was that moment he'd grabbed at the larger man and his fingers felt the gun that kept him from dying that night. Instead he lived and the man who'd raised him had died.